Can't Stay Away
by LZlola
Summary: Seth runs into a drunk Dean on the European tour. For all of the things that's been said and done, it turns out that maybe Seth is the one who can't let go.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

**Rating: T, for some cursing**

**A/N: This may or may not be a one-shot. There's definitely room to continue this and there's some interest on my end, so we'll see. If I do continue this, it won't be too long – probably 4 or 5 chapters max, as I'm admittedly not great when it comes to updating fics in a timely manner. This tries to be kayfabe-compliant.**

* * *

Seth is tired. His match against Randy has admittedly taken its toll on his body, but the jetlag from this morning's flight from Texas to England isn't helping either. After sampling the area's local cuisine, he just wants to get back to the hotel and relax.

So seeing his former Shield partner making a commotion in front of his hotel isn't very thrilling, to say the least.

Seth tries to avoid a scene, but it's almost impossible to get into the hotel without practically knocking into him.

"'Scuse you," Dean scowls. Seth just stares at Dean with exasperation. Dean is noticeably swaying and obviously drunk.

"Hey, watch it, you berk!" someone with a heavy accent shouts, as Dean backs up into the stranger.

"I don't know what the hell that means, but fuck you too!" Dean yells back at the retreating figure.

Seth shakes his head disapprovingly. He doesn't have time to deal with this shit. He doesn't have time to deal with him.

"Friendly city, huh?" Dean asks, turning back to a bewildered Seth.

Seth raises his hands in a show of surrender and tries to move around him, but Dean isn't having it apparently.

"What? You think you're better than me just because you've got some stupid belt?"

"I'm better than you because I'm not staggering around and knocking into random people," Seth says with narrowed eyes and raised chin.

"Oh, so just because you're Straight Edge, you're better than me?" he slurs.

"That's not-" Seth denies.

"It's what you meant," he cuts off. "Asshole." Dean starts to teeter on the balls of his feet. "And who says you're a random person? Maybe I wanted to knock into you. S'too bad this place is spinning or else you'd be out cold. Would serve you right for stealing that title away from Roman." Dean gives Seth a light shove on his chest. "Asshole," he repeats under his breath.

"Look, we've both had a rough night," Seth says through clenched teeth, not wanting to start a fight. "You're obviously incapable of doing anything remotely beneficial to society, so why don't you head up to your room and call it a night?"

"Oh, look who's trying to be peacemaker now. This is fucking rich. Are you scared of me because Tweedle dumb and Tweedle dumber are still dead from Orton's RKOs?"

Seth laughs heartily. "Are you serious? Scared? I beat you. Every. Single. Time."

"Because of the Authority and stupid fucking Wyatt doing stupid fucking magic tricks."

"You fell for them," he taunts.

"Yeah, and you reaped the rewards. Like always," Dean spat.

"I'm not fucking scared of you," Seth hisses.

"Sure," he mocks. He pats Seth on the cheek like a little child, before sitting down right in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the hotel.

Seth looks at him with a mix of anger and curiosity. He doesn't know why he's still here. He doesn't know why he's letting Dean talk to him like this.

He could walk away. They're not partners anymore. They don't even wrestle each other anymore. That's how little they think about one another now.

But Seth can't seem to drag his feet away. He can't seem to tear his eyes away.

Just then, the hotel doorman approaches Dean hesitantly. He crouches down to Dean's eye level and clasps his hands together in front of him. "Excuse me, sir, but you can't sit here. As a guest of our establishment, I welcome you to-"

"I'm a paying customer. I'll sit wherever the fuck I want to on your property," Dean interrupts loudly in the doorman's face.

"Sir, if you don't-" the doorman responds more sternly.

Something overcomes Seth suddenly and for some reason, he finds his hand on the doorman's shoulder. The doorman turns his head in surprise. "It's alright," Seth assures him. "I was just escorting him up to his room. Had a few too many, you know? Sorry for the inconvenience."

The doorman gives him a hard look and then sighs. "Good luck," he mutters, getting up. Seth watches him walk back to greet a few late-night patrons coming back from a clearly sophisticated event.

Seth turns his attention back to Dean. He sighs audibly, so that Dean can hear his displeasure.

"Dean," Seth starts.

"I don't want your pity," he snarls, still staring at the concrete.

"It's not pity," Seth says honestly. Dean looks up at Seth with big eyes and simply nods. Seth shifts uncomfortably, knowing that Dean can still read him as if nothing's changed.

"What's your room number?" Seth starts.

"What, no dinner and drinks first?" Dean asks, giving Seth a small smile.

"Dean, I'm serious," Seth says tiredly.

"So am I." Dean pops up suddenly and almost falls forward, but Seth is there to steady him. "You've got to earn that, mister."

"I don't recall ever buying you dinner or drinks," Seth says offhandedly, shrugging. Dean looks at him with a small glint in his eyes.

"Touché," Dean says softly.

And for a moment, everything feels familiar again. Like they're just two friends sitting on the floor playing poker. Trying in vain to see the other's hand over their shoulders and lingering a little too closely when they can't.

"Tell me what room you're in, so I can drag your ass there and I can get some sleep," Seth quickly changes subjects, while taking Dean's forearm in an attempt to guide him back into the hotel.

"Why do you care? Why not just leave me here?" he asks, tugging back on Seth's grip.

"WWE has an image to maintain. Stephanie and Triple H would have a fit if they knew a drunk wrestler was bothering people in front of a nice hotel like this." It rolls off Seth's tongue easily now.

Lies.

"Oh." There's still that glint in Dean's blue eyes, as if he knows something Seth doesn't, but the rest of Dean's expression is difficult to read.

"This isn't about you," Seth comments. "It's not always about you," he goes on quieter than before. Seth doesn't know if his last sentence is in reference to something deeper or if it's just a reiteration, but either way, it's unsettling.

"Never said it was," Dean hums.

Dean's non-answers forces Seth to get into his own head. Maybe there's a reason Seth has to lie and qualify all of his statements, as if he doesn't even believe them himself. But then again, maybe Dean is just messing with his head.

Seth should be irritated at that thought. Here Dean is questioning him as if he understands how he feels and how his mind works. As if they're still close.

But he doesn't have it in him to be mad at him anymore. And maybe that's why they ended their bitter feud so abruptly. He just doesn't have it in him to fight him anymore.

"Reconsidering the dinner and drinks part?" Dean asks, snapping Seth out of his thoughts. "I'm a simple meat an' potatoes kind of guy, but for you, I'll settle for that fancy schmancy stuff you like. And I got kicked out of a few pubs down the street…But this is England, so I'm sure there's a few pubs down the other way."

"What are you talking about? I'm taking you upstairs. Where is your room key?"

"Hmm…impatient are we? Can't say I'm surprised…after our last sexual encounter and all."

Seth glares at Dean. Dean holds his gaze.

"That was once and it was a long time ago," Seth finally breathes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Twice actually," Dean corrects. "But you brought it up."

"You're the one still talking about it," Seth retorts.

"I am," Dean concedes, but not before giving Seth another boyish grin.

"Where is your damn room key?" Seth asks, annoyed.

"My shoe," Dean replies.

"You still do that?"

"You remember?" Dean raises his eyebrows.

Seth stops. _He remembers everything._

"It's fucking weird," Seth says instead.

"People are always touchin' you and grabbin' at your pockets…Nobody's gonna be messin' with your shoes. I figured it's good there," he explains. Dean sticks his left foot out and lifts up his jeans to display the small, rectangular envelope wedged between his sock and shoe. He takes off his shoe and the envelope falls out.

"Gross, man," Seth recoils, as Dean slips his shoe on again.

"See," Dean gestures as if he made his point.

"You're so weird," Seth sighs again.

"You used to like me that way," Dean says.

_Used to._

Seth looks at Dean, trying to read him, but his eyes are empty and bloodshot. It's obvious that any meaning Seth caught is unintentional. It seems their words and the other's presence are having a much bigger effect on Seth than it does for Dean. Seth clears his throat before bending over and quickly retrieving the item.

"You're a floor above me. Come on." Seth grabs him by the arms and attempts to drag him into the hotel.

Dean doesn't budge. He just closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath.

"What are you doing? Come on. You're shivering; you're gonna catch a cold."

Dean looks at him oddly, but he cooperates with Seth by draping his arm around Seth's shoulder. He starts chuckling unexpectedly, as they start moving.

"What's so funny?" Seth questions in confusion, while Dean lays his head against him.

"You do care about me," Dean mumbles, a small smile forming on his face.

"I do n-" Seth starts, but is interrupted by the snoring coming out of Dean's mouth. Seth groans, shaking him lightly once Dean stalls.

"Dean, wake up. There's no way I can carry you like this."

"Use your magical CrossFit powers," Dean murmurs, burying his head into the crook of his neck.

"You asshole. You're obviously not completely out of it yet. It's only five more minutes. Give me five minutes."

"Not my fault you're weak."

"Oof." Seth groans, wrapping an arm around Dean's waist and lowering his head to get into a better position. "Can you at least stop dragging your big ass feet? Help a brother out," Seth says.

"Brother?" Dean's head shifts to get a glimpse of Seth.

"It's an expression," Seth replies. "Don't read anything into it."

"What does my big ass have to do with my feet?" Dean bemuses.

"No, no. Your feet are big. I was saying 'big ass' to demonstrate the extent- ah, nevermind. Like you have any idea what I'm saying right now," Seth gives up, nodding his head appreciatively to the same doorman who came up to them earlier.

"Are you checking out my ass right now? 'Cause I don't think it's right to take advantage of someone in my kind of state…" Dean continues, obviously ignoring Seth.

"If you don't shut up-" Seth begins.

"…But I won't tell anyone if you do," Dean grins, raking his fingers across the lower part of Seth's stomach.

"Stop that," Seth reprimands, batting Dean's hand away.

"Damn, man. CrossFit _is_ magical."

"God, I forgot how horny you get when you're wasted," Seth mumbles. "The elevator is this way," he goes on, leading Dean to the right.

"Okay, fiiiine," Dean says dramatically, the back of his hand on his forehead. "We can skip the dinner and drinks, but you better give me some breakfast in the morning."

"Yeah, not happening. And if you're looking for free food, there's a breakfast buffet in the morning, you dumbass."

"You accepting?" Dean asks in surprise.

"What, no! I swear you have selective hearing. That would explain why you always did the exact opposite of whatever I told you to do when we were partners," Seth comments.

"Are you sure? The night's still young," Dean suggests, nudging him in the side.

"And you're still shit-faced."

"So if I wasn't shit-faced, you'd be considering it?"

"So deductive reasoning isn't too hard for you, but listening is?"

"What?"

"You're doing this on purpose," Seth says accusatorily, as they arrive at the elevator lobby. Seth presses the 'Up' button and an elevator immediately opens. "Come on. People were giving us weird looks in the main lobby and I'd rather not run into someone I'd have to explain this to," Seth frowns, gently pushing Dean into the elevator.

"Remember when we got stuck in that elevator at home?" Dean asks suddenly, still wavering.

"We are not taking the stairs," Seth refuses, unamused. He presses the number '16' button and the doors close.

"The same night I hooked up with those two hot chicks and you lost all your money?" Dean reminisces, leaning back against the cold metal.

"Don't remind me," Seth mutters.

"It was like five grand," he laughs. "I guess no one can ever fault you for being a pussy."

"Go big or go home," Seth mumbles.

"I never thanked you for doing that karaoke thing with me, by the way. It definitely got me laid that night," he says. "But you are a terrible singer. The worst."

"You're not any better," Seth says.

"It was a crazy night," Dean continues, still grinning. "Good times, right?"

Seth doesn't respond immediately. It bothers him that they're able to fall back into this rapport so easily. Alcohol is Dean's excuse, but what is his excuse?

The elevator stops suddenly. Seth grips Dean's shoulder tightly before he almost tumbles into the opposite wall. The doors open.

"Up?" a female guest asks, as she holds onto a bucket of ice.

"Yeah," Seth nods, straightening up. The woman makes her way onto the elevator and several seconds pass by the time Seth opens his mouth again. "Yeah," he repeats in a voice low enough and strangled enough that Dean knows it's not just in response to the woman.

The rest of the ride is silent, aside from the occasional humming from Dean. When they reach the 16th floor, he holds Dean by the waist and clumsily guides him out of the elevator. Seth shoots a grateful nod to the other elevator occupant for holding the elevator door.

"Almost there," Seth remarks to Dean in a hushed tone. "Should be a few more doors."

"I'm thirsty," Dean says matter-of-factly, as he opens and closes his mouth like a fish.

"Shh. It's late." Seth stops in front of Dean's room and detaches himself from Dean's body. He props him up against the adjacent wall, before taking out Dean's keycard. "I'll give you some water once we get inside. Are you rooming with anyone?" Seth asks.

"You offering?" Dean sloppily traces his lips with his tongue and attempts a poorly executed wink.

"You should see yourself right now. Really attractive," Seth rolls his eyes, sliding the keycard.

"I'll bet," Dean says puffing out his chest and grinning widely.

"I don't know why I'd expect you to catch sarcasm when you're like this." He shakes his head and uses his foot to prop the door open.

"Like what?"

"Nevermind. Come on, I'm exhausted" Seth says, grabbing Dean by the hand and pulling him into the room.

"Hey!" he exclaims, caught off-guard. "Fucking hurts."

"Can you make it to the bed yourself?"

"Mmm-hmm," Dean nods, He proceeds to stumble from the chair to the TV stand and finally to the bed. Dean then starts to focus on taking off his shoes.

"Stay there. I'll get you some water." Seth disappears into the bathroom for a minute and reappears with a full glass of water. Dean is lightly snoring, with his arms hugging his stomach and his sock-covered feet dangling over the edge.

Seth sighs and sets the water on the nightstand.

"Dean, get up," Seth urges, poking him on his hip at the same time he's pulling on the covers underneath Dean. Dean mumbles something incoherent, but rolls over anyway. The movement is just enough for Seth to dislodge the blanket and sheets out from underneath Dean. He throws the covers over Dean and moves to close the light, when Dean suddenly adjusts himself.

"Seth?" he murmurs, his eyes still shut.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Thanks."

Dean immediately falls back asleep, but Seth knows that his words are genuine. His mind travels back to times when everything that happened tonight was normal. Times they would spend hours in hotel rooms and rental cars talking and laughing together about nothing and everything. Times they would fall asleep next to each other after a grueling match and wake up with Dean splayed across the floor, with all the blankets tangled around him. Times they would look at each other as if all they ever needed was one another.

Seth lowers his head and purses his lips.

But that was all in the past. Seth is the new WWE World Heavyweight Champion, the undisputed future of a company run by the Authority. And Dean could never be part of that future.

He switches off the light and turns to leave.

"Go to sleep."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and reviews are always appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed/favorited/followed, and thank you for sticking with this. Sorry it's been awhile. I kind of promised some of you guys that there would be a second part/continuation, so here it is.**

**For reference since it's been awhile: This picks up the next day (4/10/2015) at Sheffield, England. The 4/11 house show is at Birmingham (I tried looking this up and I believe RigsFitness is the gym located here and the one Dean and Seth were spotted at taking pics with the same guy back in April. It's also a gym that has been used by other superstars in the past when WWE goes to England. Please correct me if I'm wrong), the 4/12 house show is in Cardiff and 4/13 is RAW in The O2 in London.**

* * *

Sheffield is a complete blur for Seth.

He couldn't sleep the night before and he ends up just going through the motions in his fight against Orton.

(Which is absolutely the reason why he and J&amp;J can't handle Orton that night).

When he's in his hotel room alone that night, Seth chalks it all up to the time zone difference and not getting the right nutrients into his body.

(It has _absolutely_ nothing to do with the fact that he's been lying awake in bed for hours, thinking about a certain former teammate who didn't even bother to look his way when they passed each other earlier in the day).

* * *

Over the years, Seth's found that the easiest way to forget about something is to have a good workout. RigsFitness in Birmingham is John Cena-endorsed and therefore, WWE endorsed. Seth doesn't particularly like John, or that head-scratchingloss Seth took at their recent, _obviously unfair_, one-on-one match at TLC, but John – and his merchandise sales – are best for business now, or so he's told. John can chase after whatever championship belt he wants to, as long as it's not his WWE World Heavyweight title. Plus, it sure is better than Dean getting his hands on his WWE World Heavyweight title.

Maybe.

(In the back of his mind, Seth can't help but think that Dean might look pretty good carrying his title around).

He meets one of the trainers at the front desk and they start discussing a personalized workout plan for Seth's needs. Before they even get to the weight station though, Seth's hit with the sight of a shirtless Dean, huffing and straining on the butterfly press.

So much for trying to push everything out of his mind after the last two sleepless nights. He guesses he can't outrun this forever.

Dean looks up and they lock eyes.

He hates how Dean can look right at him and seemingly know his whole life history, but Seth can't even tell if he's thinking about _anything_, let alone something specific. It's so uncomfortable and annoying.

Is he wondering about why Seth bothered to stop to help him up to his room? Is he thinking about their talk in the elevator? Is he thinking about Seth's hands around his waist, his breath against his ear?

About how easy everything was?

And even though Seth doesn't have a clue what Dean's thinking about, he knows that their little look affects Dean in a way that he would never admit to.

Because Dean's the first to look away. He's the one who abruptly gets off the bench, throws a towel over his shoulder and walks over towards the rowing machines on the opposite side of the gym, muttering something under his breath.

For a second, Seth attempts to follow him, but then he remembers that he's still in public and the expectant trainer is leading him towards the weights. Besides, Seth's not some puppy dog and he's not going to hang on Dean's every move just because they had some little…what? Reconnection? Understanding?

_It was obviously nothing_, Seth concludes. If Dean's going to ignore everything, so will Seth.

But the trainer seems to notice Seth's gaze and Dean's reaction. "Wow, I thought all that animosity was being played up for the cameras. I guess getting a picture with you two together is out of the question." Seth looks to the trainer, and is met with a sheepish grin and a shrug. "It's not often we get celebrities in here," he explains.

The fact that Seth's being called a celebrity in England does stroke his ego a bit. "Ambrose is pretty difficult to deal with, but I'd be happy to take a picture with you after I finish my workout," Seth smiles.

"That'd be great," the trainer replies, "I'll ask Mr. Ambrose another time."

The trainer doesn't pry any more than that.

Thank god.

* * *

Seth gets caught staring at Dean after Dean's brawl against Luke Harper in Cardiff. After their encounter at the gym, Seth can't blame Dean when he confronts Seth about it.

"What d'ya want now?"

It's Seth's chance to set the record straight about the other night. He doesn't want things to change for him with respect to his standing in the WWE, but he knows that night definitely did change things between the two of them.

"Look, about the other night..." Seth starts.

"What happened the other night?"

"When we were talking -"

Dean rubs his face and scrunches up his nose a bit. "We were talking?"

"What?"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind, whatever," Seth says, annoyance written all over his face. If Dean wants to pretend it didn't happen, so be it. Seth's got more important things to worry about, namely his match against Orton in an hour.

"Look, if you're talkin' 'bout Thursday night, it was kind of a big blur…I think I was dancing with an inflatable giraffe on top of a table but it could have been drugs or a dream or video I was watchin'…So you know, don't sweat it." Dean pats his shoulder and Seth feels like he's been punched in the gut.

Dean doesn't remember anything. That's why he was acting so strangely at the gym. Or normally rather, as if nothing had happened.

"Yeah, sure," is all Seth can manage.

"So you can stop worrying and stop looking at me funny, and I can start beating the crap outta you again, right?"

Seth knits his brows together, as Dean turns to walk away. "Dean, wait," Seth tries, grabbing at his waist, before he can think of the repercussions.

Dean recoils immediately, like Seth's touch is a shock to Dean's system. And suddenly, Dean's facing him and looking at him with wide eyes as if he's all too aware of everything.

Like something suddenly hits him and all the memories of last night are rushing back to him.

"What-" Dean stutters.

Seth doesn't say anything for a while as he watches Dean's expression change from realization to confusion. One touch is all it took for all the memories to rush back, and it's not hard for Seth to read Dean this time.

"You were drunk," Seth says as if it explains everything.

"But…but why?"

"Dunno," Seth mutters, shrugging. And even after days have passed and his analytical mind has run through all the possible reasons, Seth still has no idea why he stooped in front of Dean and offered his help.

"That why you've been giving me all these weird looks? We didn't-" he asks, gesturing rather crudely with his hands.

"What? No," Seth denies, understanding quickly. "You'd really think I'd do that when you're drunk?"

"We've done it before."

"When we were _both_ drunk and we didn't try to beat each other up every week. I'd never do that if you were that shitfaced. I'm an asshole, not a criminal," he rolls his eyes.

"I guess I'm always the criminal, huh?" Dean lets out a chuckle, and Seth has to bite his lip before he lets Dean see how good that sounds to his ears right now.

God, this is so messed up.

But the sound stops abruptly, and Dean snarls a little too forcefully. "Well, don't expect a thank you."

"You already thanked me."

Dean pauses at the information. "Well, I wasn't myself. Didn't mean nothing."

"Okay." Seth's response is simple, but he knows that it'll rile Dean up just enough.

"Probably thought you were Roman…or maybe a bouncer…I can confuse the two sometimes."

"Understandable." And it is. He and Dean would often pass the late nights wondering about what they'd do if they didn't fight for a living.

"Don't start," Dean warns.

"What?"

"What you're about to say."

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"You're thinking it." Dean thrusts his index finger into his face. "So stop it. Stop pretending like you didn't betray me and Rome. Stop pretending like you didn't just get up and walk away from us. Stop pretending like we're still something."

Seth is about to reply that they're enemies, so they are _something_, but Dean continues before Seth can formulate his smartass response.

"Because we're not. You don't get to reminisce about what we used to be. Not when you were the one who ended it."

Seth thinks better than to correct Dean and tell him that it's a free country and he can think whatever the hell he wants.

Instead, he just hits him with another truth.

"You're the one who brought it up."

And he's sure that Dean gets the implication.

_You're the one talking as if we're still something. _

_You're the one who's making it hard to walk away._

"Fuck," Dean breathes. He makes a face and clutches his midsection.

"What? Your ribs?" Seth reaches out to Dean before his head can tell him to stop, and Dean shrinks back.

"'S messed up," Dean exhales, as if he's reading Seth's mind.

"Yeah, Harper did a number on you," Seth says instead, not willing admit how much he _knows_.

"No, you asshole. _Us_," he emphasizes. "You know, for someone who considers himself the architect, the master strategist, you sure are pretty dense."

Seth is a little relieved that Dean doesn't finish his first thought. Because it's so much easier being a complete asshole to someone – especially Dean – than being honest with himself. "How'd you learn those big words?" Seth mocks. "You and Roman aren't exactly geniuses."

"And yet somehow Orton managed to RKO you and your minions tonight," Dean taunts back.

"I'm still champion," Seth gloats.

"At what cost?" He gestures towards the fresh bruise forming on his shoulder, but his eyes are angry, and Seth knows that Dean's not talking about tonight's match at all. Dean groans at nothing in particular. "Why didn't you just let me rot there in whiskey and vomit? Why couldn't you just enjoy it like the scumbag you are?"

"Couldn't," Seth says simply. He doesn't want to elaborate because he really doesn't want to _think_ about it anymore. He never wants to think about anything when he's with Dean. That's always been the problem really.

Seth has always been someone who doesn't like to ask questions. He'll go to great lengths to do everything he can to accommodate people, especially if Seth can get something out of it. It's a trait he's been working on actually – indulging people a little too much – especially after trusting Orton after his return.

And Dean is someone who wants to love or wants to fight. There's no in-between with him. That's why it was always so easy with Dean, with them.

Until Seth turned his back on the Shield and Dean started wanting to do _both_.

The sudden derisive laughter of the Bella Twins in the distance breaks them out of their little world and Dean pushes past Seth. "Yeah well, maybe fucking try next time. I don't fucking want your help."

Seth knows he doesn't mean it.

* * *

The next time Seth sees Dean, it's in London an hour before RAW is about to start.

"You know, you really should try being more considerate when you're trying to carry someone." Seth's always found it weird how Dean will just randomly come up to him and casually start a conversation, but then try to rip his head off the next day.

"What do you want now, Dean?" Seth's decided that from now on, his guard is up until Dean let's his down.

"I got this weird scar on the back of my head."

"You probably got it beforehand…you know, when you were probably out being an idiot more than usual."

"I'm just saying that you could be a lil' gentler. I swear I remember you just pushing me towards a railing and hoping I'd balance on it. Roman throws me over his shoulder and practically carries me up twenty flights of stairs. You know, you should look into his fitness regimen-"

"You were fucking drunk!" Seth exclaims. "And you're telling me how I should carry you? Have you noticed how heavy you are?!"

"Woah, easy there. I forgot how touchy you get when I mention other forms of fitness besides your beloved CrossFit. I was jus' sayin''"

"Fuck off, Ambrose," Seth shakes his head and starts to leave.

Seth is already several steps down the hallway before he hears a hesitant "Wait" behind him. Seth unsurely turns around and is met with a piece of paper pressed into his hand. There's a number scribbled on it.

"What's this?"

"Rome's new number," Dean mumbles. "I mean, I doubt you actually know he changed it, but he's got a new number."

"Wh-why are you giving this to me?" He can't pinpoint what it is exactly that makes his voice suddenly get hoarse.

"If you ever find me drunk off my ass again," Dean explains.

"Oh. Does Roman know you're giving me his number?"

"No, because I don't expect you to use it. But I figured it would save you the trouble. Just in case," Dean shrugs his shoulders and looks down at the floor.

"Are you…"

"It's not an invitation or anything," Dean says quickly. "I'm not saying that I'm gonna need your help again, and I'm not saying that you would even stop to help me again."

"That's exactly what it sounds-"

"But you know, if you ever feel like not letting-" he pauses a second to find the right words, "-some guy you used to know die on the street…" He completely stops this time and Seth watches Dean's thoughts move a mile a minute. "And don't even think about calling him unless it's an emergency, like the cops are handcuffing me or something"

"Why wouldn't I let them?" He asks because he wants to hear Dean's explanation.

"What?"

"Why wouldn't I let the cops take you away?"

"Dunno, just thought…Fuck, Seth, I don't know what to think, okay? If you don't want his number, just say so!" He tries to take back the piece of paper, but Seth stops him by placing his other hand on Dean's wrist.

Dean's being honest; his walls are down.

"An emergency," Seth assures.

Dean glances down at Seth's touch. "Yeah," he murmurs.

"When I won't…can't help you myself."

The implication isn't lost on Dean. Dean looks at Seth for a long minute, then down at his feet. "Yeah." It's barely above a whisper, but it sounds like a freight truck to Seth in the echoing halls of The O2.

There's another long silence until Dean runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

"This doesn't change anything," Dean goes on. "You're still a backstabbing, lying, cheating son of a bitch."

Seth opens his mouth to reply but something gets caught in his throat. He stares at his fingers still on Dean's pulse, and suddenly, Seth wants to tell Dean that what he did last year was stupid and selfish. That being champion isn't all that it's cracked up to be without people to enjoy the accomplishment with.

That the first night in Newcastle was more than just Seth taking pity on an old friend.

And maybe, deep down, Seth knows _exactly_ why he crouched in front of Dean and took him up in his arms. Maybe he let Dean touch him just to feel those warm, calloused fingers wrapped around his body again. Let him lean against him, just to feel someone trust him – _need_ him – again.

But instead, Seth licks his lips and bites his tongue.

Things are complicated; Seth was the one who made it complicated.

He lets go of Dean.

"I know."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and reviews are always appreciated! I think this is it, but as with some of my other stuff, this doesn't exactly end on a finalized note. If I ever get to urge to write more, another part may be added in the future, but for the near future, I'm deeming this as complete.**


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